


Grudge-Inclined Mind

by BlueHydrangeas



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHydrangeas/pseuds/BlueHydrangeas
Summary: Grudges aren’t healthy, but then again, neither is most things Ino indulges in. Ino/Shikamaru, Temari/Shikamaru with eventual Ino/Hidan.





	1. Familiar Foliage

As the cool, frigid air meets the exposed skin of her collarbone, Ino wanders further into the deep recesses of her grudge-inclined mind. Shikamaru had kept her waiting for almost an hour- a habitual grievance she typically indulged, his sardonic drawls and self-assured charm quickly dissolving her vexation. Yet tonight was supposed to be different, he had urged her with a stern edge to his voice as she rolled her eyes, decidedly unconvinced. 

Tonight was laced with a sense of urgency, the vague nature of which was the catalyst to her unnerved state. She had waited at the dimly-lit restaurant for long enough, sipping on a tequila sunrise, acutely aware of the acidic sensation which lingered on her tongue. She wondered if Shikamaru would taste it, the fusion of sweet and bitter, marvelling at its deceptive complexity. It wasn’t until the waiter came up to her for a third time, features contorted by thinly-veiled concern, that she realised just how long she had been waiting. Not willing to be the recipient of pity, she hastily ordered a takeaway dish of chicken katsu curry, eyes downcast as he poured her another glass.

Now she was almost home, the harsh gusts of wind tangling her pale strands and numbing her fingers. Her feet were in agony, painfully arched by the sharp curvature of her stiletto heels, her lips purpled by the unrelenting winter chill. She was so fixated with emptying her bag to find her keys that she failed to notice the figure slouching beside her. 

“Your observational skills are as polished as ever.” 

Ino looks up at him, wide-eyed and frantic before restoring her composure. 

“And your faux concern bullshit is as unwarranted as ever.” 

Shikamaru’s features soften as Ino unlocks the door and fumbles into her apartment, hurling her purse and coat onto the sofa. 

When she doesn’t invite him in, he clears his throat and leans against the doorframe. Acting oblivious to his presence, Ino takes her time finding a bowl and chopsticks for her takeaway dish before darting her eyes back at him. 

“My ass nearly caught pneumonia walking back from that restaurant which you insisted on going to tonight. Two hours ago. I know you’re under the false impression that I sit around all day waiting for y-”

“C’mon, Ino. I need to talk to you. And judging by the fact that I see a family sized katsu curry on your kitchen bench, I’m inclined to believe that you anticipated my company.” 

Ino pauses, focusing intently on the dish in question. She hadn’t even realised she ordered a meal for two. 

“Old habits die hard,” she says evenly, as Shikamaru closes the door and the gap between them. 

Their first union was a culmination of six years of tension so palpable that Ino swore she could touch it, feel it. It gnawed at her, festered in the pit of her stomach and manifested in ways she could never have anticipated. Shikamaru was the one guy she wasn’t allowed to be with, or so she had been instilled to believe. He was sharp-witted and rigid in his ways, and she was too loud-mouthed and opinionated for a man with such a nuanced disposition.  
She could never dream of stimulating his keen intellectual prowess, much less keep him interested, her mother had more or less insinuated when she grew suspicious of their burgeoning romance. Looks fade, dear. A man’s mind can remain sharp until the very end, as long as he meets his equal. Of course, her mother had a vested interest in maintaining the Ino-Shika-Cho structure which had endured 16 generations. All too aware of the consequences involved if they were caught compromising the sacred formation, Ino quickly cultivated the ability to appear even more unfazed than her perpetually unbothered lover- donning the mask of indifference so convincingly that she’s no longer sure if it’s still a façade. 

Most of their interactions occurred during missions, when Choji was immersed in ordering an endless array of dishes or whining about how depleted his stomach felt. They were thankful that Choji was so obtuse when it came to subtle romantic gestures, but cautious of overestimating his density, settling on quick touches and lingering gazes. Things didn’t escalate until Asuma’s death, when Ino found Shikamaru crouched against her door with a dazed expression. He had been sitting out in the rain for hours, almost in a trance, when he saw her and collapsed in her embrace. 

She took him inside and unrobed him with meticulous precision, gently guiding him into the shower where he let out his raw anguish, unburdening the physicality of his grief. He grabbed her thin waist with an uninhibited sense of urgency, hoisting her hips up against his as she frantically shed the wet clothing from her body. He studied her face, searching for any hint of resistance, to which she responded by kissing him fervently and straddling him. Later that night, he told her about the message Asuma had imparted him with through a game of Shogi. When Ino explained to him her interpretation of its sentiments, he gazed at her in awe, yearning to become acquainted with her mind as thoroughly as he had familiarised himself with her body. It was then, Ino suspects, that Shikamaru met his equal. 

***  
But that was then. That was before the war caused widespread devastation, the aftermath resulting in abrupt weddings and even quicker pregnancies in order to reinstate order in the grief-stricken village. Ino was only 22, and yet she felt her whole world shift beneath her as the vast majority of the Konoha 11 assimilated into mundane lifestyles lulled by false notions of tranquillity. Only Ino, Shikamaru, Tenten and Shino had refused to indulge the expectations thrust upon them in the wake of the disaster, set in their belief that shinobi had more to live up to than reinstating stability through marriage and procreation. Granted, Ino wasn’t sure if Shino was a voluntary member of their rebellious stance as he hardly had girls lined up to procreate with, but she knew with unwavering certainty that Shikamaru would encounter no difficulty should he wish to do what was expected of him. 

Her name was Temari, and her sharp features were always lit up by a mischievous glint in her almond-shaped eyes. Like Ino, she was a blonde- although not too blonde, Shikamaru’s mother approvingly noted. Her strands were an acceptable shade of sandy beige- a far cry from the bright platinum blonde that apparently marked Ino as a vapid damsel in distress. She was two years older than Shikamaru, well-equipped to stimulate his frantic mind and fulfil his unrelenting needs. Ino wanted to hate her, to mock her upturned nose and raspy voice. But as she witnessed Shikamaru grow further entranced by the Suna native, she soon became acutely aware that to hate Temari was to hate herself. She was just as morbid and guarded as Temari, just as sarcastic and resourceful. They had both suffered loss and anguish, and had both known the harrowing sensation of being held responsible for the troubled men in their life. They had both been treated as an afterthought as young kunoichis, always offering their emotional strength yet failing to receive any appreciation for it. The only thing that set them apart was how they were outwardly perceived by the harsh and uncompromising landscape they were inhabitants of. 

Temari held an intimidating aura since she had first acquainted herself with the Leaf village as a self-assured 14-year-old, harnessing a threatening force that has never left her. Conversely, as a genin Ino was as menacing as a blunt kunai- utilised solely for support in missions with a technique that was sorely underutilised due to the risks it posed. Temari always had the opportunity to pursue a position of power at her home village, whereas Ino was ridiculed for not acquiescing to what was deemed her best possible future: settling down with a dollar bin version of Sasuke. They shared distinct disparities yet were so alike- the same venom dripped from their rapid tongues, yearning for something more than idyllic domesticism. Maybe that’s why Shikamaru had tried so desperately to cling to them both. 

***

“I have to tell you something.”

Ino draws her attention away from the barely eaten curry, glancing at Shikamaru with heavy-lidded eyes. 

“What? You knocked her up? You’re having a shotgun wedding in Suna and you’re going to become the new Kazekage?

Shikamaru furrows his brows, his features darkening. 

“Don’t say shit like that, it’s beneath you. I don’t like it.” 

“Oh? Bold of you to say when you were beneath me just a moment ago and seemed to quite enjoy it,” Ino spits out, her voice raw. 

“You’re right, Ino. That was a mistake. A mistake that won’t happen again.” 

Ino parts her lips as if to speak, though no words come out. She watches him intently, hoping for any traces of confliction to betray his true feelings. He remains stoic, sternly meeting her gaze. 

“So, was I far off the mark?”

Shikamaru lights a cigarette. 

“No, I guess not. Either you know me too well or I’m becoming predictable,” he responds in a measured tone. 

“Probably a bit of both. So, are you going to elaborate or do you derive pleasure in making me ask you a million questions?” Ino tries to emulate his neutral demeanour, though she fails to conceal her sullen expression.

“I proposed, yeah. But I can’t just abandon my duties and relocate to Suna. She’s the one making the big move, not me.”

Ino grips her chopsticks so tightly that her knuckles turn white. She shifts in her seat, trying to maintain her composure. 

“Temari has duties too. She’s instrumental to the stability of Gaara’s tenure as Kazekage. Why do you think your dick takes precedence?” 

Shikamaru stammers, bewildered by her hostility. 

“Ino, don’t pull that shit on me. You can try to manipulate it into some patriarchal bullshit narrative all you want, but that’s not what went down. She’s the one who suggested it in the first place.”

To her surprise, knowing it was Temari’s decision amplifies Ino’s pain. Knowing she harnessed so much power, and is channelling it into uprooting her entire life for a man who isn’t even faithful to her. Knowing she is such an important figurehead in Suna, and is throwing it away to move to a village that has no platform for her to exert her political expertise. Knowing she won’t even get to showcase her proficiency in combat, and that if she has a child, they will master the shadow clone jutsu and her wind techniques will be discarded. But what sends the soaring chill down her spine is not the knowledge of Temari’s subservience, but rather that she could so clearly envisage herself doing precisely the same.  
If Shikamaru wanted her, she would give him all of her- the infallible attentiveness, the ease of home cooked meals, the constant enthusiasm for sex. Despite insisting otherwise, she would give him everything- but now he wanted nothing, not even the thing she had been taught all men wanted from her. For six years, they had been tangled in a frenzied, inconvenient love that required both of them to internalise and compartmentalise their feelings. Now, he was untangling himself from her clammy embrace and leaving her to pick up the pieces of the shameful mess they created. 

Wordlessly, Ino stands up and brushes past Shikamaru, grabbing her coat and slamming the door behind her. Before Shikamaru has a chance to catch up to her she’s out of sight, eyes burning with tears as she tries to get away from the source of all her pain. She runs as fast as her lithe limbs allow her, with no particular destination in mind- a fact she finds comforting, as the uncertainty of her path further numbs her mind from the callous bite of Shikamaru’s words. 

It isn’t until Ino finds herself in the midst of familiar foliage that she realises the pathway she’s now following is the Nara clan forest. The night is dark and the air is still, permeated with the scent of blooming grandiflora. The aroma is rich and familiar, offering warmth amidst the icy gusts of wind. Ino follows the scent, lulled by its intoxicating complexity of delicate spice and woody undertones. The aroma smells like him, the physical essence of his multi-faceted nature. It’s as if the magnitude of his earthy masculinity and heady charm has been extracted, and the forest has been imbued with its scent. 

“I have been waiting for this opportunity for far longer than I care to admit.”

Ino stops dead in her tracks, instinctively reaching for the kunai nestled in her hip pocket.

“Relax. I have no physical manifestation. If you were to try to fight me, it would be an amusing, albeit one-sided spectacle.” 

She meticulously surveys her surroundings. The only movement she detects is that of frightened deer who flee from her peripheral vision, startled by her sudden movement. 

“What do you want?” Ino calls out, her voice low and pensive as she tries to conceal her fear.

“I already have it.”

The last thing Ino remembers before losing consciousness is being engulfed in dry, crumbly dirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As a writer, my self-confidence is as non-existent as my driver’s license (seriously I’m 22 and I can’t drive it’s a tragedy). Literally any feedback would make my day and reinforce my focus on completing this work, as after all we’re all human and humans love validation! I’m particularly cautious that the main pairings of this fic aren’t exactly popular so any feedback would be immensely appreciated! Hidan died over a decade ago so if y’all are still reading fics with him in it, I’ll be so relieved to know there's still an audience out there for Hidan fics!
> 
> While I haven’t been a part of the Naruto fandom in years, I know it’s not exactly a controversial opinion that Kishimoto can’t write women to save himself and his female characters all suffered as a consequence. While Sakura was the character most clearly affected by this, Ino suffered a lot too (obviously she’s not one of the main protagonists so she’s going to have minimal character development but c’mon…Sai? It could have made sense if even minor effort was invested into rationalising their relationship, but I digress.
> 
> I’ve wanted to write a Ino/Hidan/Shikamaru story for a while now, and seeing as there hasn’t been much traction in either of those ships I’ve been inspired to try to conjure up a fresh take on how those dynamics could play out. Hidan especially is a difficult character to write, as I’ve found fics often depict him as overtly sexualised comedic relief, or a far too serious religious fanatic. Given his arc is so small in Shippuden, obviously a lot of creative liberty needs to be taken however I’m really going to try to not fall victim to caricaturising him. 
> 
> This fic is going to start off predominately as a character study of Ino and Shikamaru, and the eventual Hidan/Ino pairing is going to be really gradual as I want it to be feasible and align with their characterisation. 
> 
> There will be quite a few flashbacks in a similar vein to how I constructed it in this first chapter, but only for the first few chapters in order to provide some context for the timeline and the established relationships of Temari/Shikamaru and Ino/Shikamaru. However I don’t want to fixate too heavily on these intricate details as I think the future aspects of the story are more compelling than laying down the blueprint of the premise. 
> 
> Also, I haven’t written anything except academic essays in a LONG time so my descriptive prose is sorely lacking right now. I am an aspiring screenwriter and far prefer writing dialogue above anything else, which I fear is quite explicitly reflected in my work. If you’re looking for lush, immersive prose this might not be a satisfying read for you. Bear in mind that I wrote this in an hour though, so it’s likely the later chapters will be a bit more fleshed out than this one! 
> 
> Finally, apologies if I don’t pay great detail to canon accuracies in the Naruto-verse. Like I said, it’s been a couple of years since I was involved in the fandom and I only remember the basics. I don’t want this to be disruptive to the story, so I’ll double check most things such as techniques/clans/ character backgrounds but I will be making some canon diversions when the need arises. One last thing- if the sex/gore/violence becomes more explicit than what is shown in this first chapter, I’ll leave a content warning at the beginning of the chapter!


	2. Look Closer

Ino can still taste it- the bitterness of the earth, the grainy texture of dirt which marred her immaculately manicured fingernails. Her head is pounding, emitting unrelenting surges of pain which amplify in intensity as she tries to sit upright too quickly. Disorientated yet determined, Ino successfully hoists herself up, clutching her stomach as she hurls up bile. 

“There’s a million fucking bushes around here, and you felt compelled to vomit out in the open?”

Ino wipes her mouth before frantically grasping her hip pocket, clutching her kunai as she turns to face the voice behind her.

“Woah, you look gaunt as fuck. You’re either committed to the heroin chic aesthetic, or I’m not the only asshole who’s been rotting underground for five years.”

Recognition hits Ino as painfully as the throbbing sensation of her migraine. Like her headache, it causes her to blink a couple of times, adjusting to the blurriness of her vision as she tries to squint- to decipher if it’s really him. 

“Hidan.”

His languid expression is contorted by an undetectable emotion- something similar to shock, though much more restrained- as if he’s simultaneously trying to recognize her and recoil from her. 

Ino says his name with unflinching certainty, for although his eyes have become sunken in and his features more angular, she knows it’s him- the man who changed everything. She knew she was squinting at Hidan, the blood-thirsty enigma who was the catalyst to Shikamaru’s steely resolve and internalized trauma. The disgraced Akatsuki member who moved with such grace as he evaded Kakashi’s attacks that Ino found herself watching in awe. But that was when she was 17, hindered by her position as a support team member, still reeling from Asuma’s parting words to her. Take care of Shikamaru and Choji. Don’t lose to Sakura in ninjutsu. Don’t lose to Sakura in love. The words reverberated in her mind as she continued to cultivate her nurturing nature in favor of her growth. It wasn’t until she was older that the words became as comforting as a kunai to the gut- that she grew to detest the way Asuma uttered combative strength and love rivalry in the same sentence. As he smoked his last cigarette and resigned to his fate, he saw the men Choji and Shikamaru would grow to be. As he took his final glance at Ino, all he saw was the girl she projected herself to be- love-struck and self-sacrificial. He never looked closer, content that what he saw on a surface level was all there was to see when it came to the blonde kuniochi. 

Feeling the wound of his insouciant disregard, Ino continues to watch Hidan intently, her concentration unwavering. She studies his weary amethyst eyes and the thin, furrowed brows which frame them. Her eyes trail down to his long, aristocratic nose before fixating on his round, symmetrical mouth. She wonders if there’s something lurking behind his sullen face- if studying him closely is all she needs to do to unearth his true nature. A cold, distant voice asks her if that’s all Asuma needed to do- to look closer at her anguished expression as she tended to his wounds, holding his final words as gospel truth. 

“Instead of checking me out, maybe we should work out what the fuck just happened. I know my impeccable bone structure is distracting, but I’ve got shit to do and you’re not being of any help,” Hidan drawls petunately, looking up at a dazed Ino with heavy lidded eyes. 

Before she can react, an ominous voice asserts itself. 

“Perhaps I can be of assistance in that regard.” 

Ino flinches at the low, sinister voice, flashing accusatory eyes at Hidan.

“What the fuck was that?”

Hidan meets her harsh stare, laughing derisively at her bewilderment. 

“What, do you think I conjured up a menacing ass voice to scare you? I’m not a fuckin’ ventriloquist. You’re not worth that much effort, trust me.”

“You’re as charming as ever, Hidan. You should be in a far better mood now that you’re much more… put together than how I last saw you,” the voice disdainfully surmises. 

All remnants of amusement disappear from Hidan’s face, his eyes scanning the forest with a newfound sense of unease.

“I don’t remember much about you because your pitiful existence was forgotten about after we defeated you, but what I do know is that you had an obsession with rituals and cult-like bullshit. Is this what this is? How else could have you crawled out of the ground?” Ino asks with a spiteful smirk, unfazed by Hidan’s animalistic snarl. 

“You’re right. Hidan’s existence is pitiful. That’s why your help was required,” the voice drawls out amusedly. 

Ino sharply inhales as she inspects her trembling, dirt covered hands. 

“You have fragmented memories of it, don’t you? How dry the dirt felt in your hands, how arduous it was assembling all of his limbs?”

“What is it that you want, Jashin-sama?” Hidan spits out sardonically, his features contorted with trepidation. 

It was a peculiar sight- a disoriented medic nin and newly reassembled S-rank sociopath in a tense conversation with a mystical entity that only they seemed to hear. Hidan traces a finger across the marks of his palm, visibly disinterested in indulging a conversation with his God. 

“Refer to me with contempt like that again and I’ll remind you what happens to my disgraced followers, Hidan” Jashin hisses threateningly. 

“I felt a force surge through me on my way here, as if it was luring me to this very spot. Why now? Why me? Hidan’s been left to rot for years now with zero interference.”

Hidan winces at her words, shifting his attention to the Atasuki ring which miraculously remains on his once severed finger. 

“You’re far more inquisitive than Hidan was when I first spoke to him. Of course, that’s no surprise given Hidan would follow anything if its leader promised infinite carnage, and you seem to possess adequate intelligence. When Hidan fell victim to a blatant trap set up by a child, he effectively put the entire faith of Jashinism to shame. Much to my dismay, Hidan was my only follower to successfully gain immortality through sacrificial means. As such, once he was defeated the legitimacy of my power began to be questioned. Following Hidan’s burial, I lingered over his remains, desperate to resurrect him. No one came, other than the Nara boy who was shielded by the protective jutsu barrier which encircles the area. You were the first person who was close enough and in a vulnerable enough state to be lured to the burial site.”

Ino balls her fists, struck by the callous candidness of his words.

“What do you mean by vulnerable?”

“I don’t have time to be delicate with you. You know precisely what I mean- you were overwhelmed by grief and anger, and I seized the moment. A spirit can only manifest itself and channel its energy into a host if their senses are dulled. The considerable amount of liquor you consumed certainly made things easier.”

Ino inhales sharply, her eyes darting across the barren surroundings. She fails to detect any movement- not even the territorial deer which watched her closely when she first entered the forest. She finds the palpable stillness unsettling, as if Jashin’s ominous presence has cast a gloomy spell over the typically serene forest. She shakily exhales, acutely aware of her bare legs exposure to the frigid bite of the early morning chill, pulling her knees in closer to seek warmth.

“You still haven’t explained why you’ve invested so much effort into a rescue mission for someone who has apparently betrayed his religious affiliation to you,” Ino muses in a careful, measured tone.

A low, mirthless laugh echoes throughout the forest.

“I never said this was a rescue mission. I simply require Hidan to continue his reign as my most prolific servant. I’m passionate about bringing great fortune to my devoted followers, but I’m equally as passionate about exacting revenge on those who have fallen from grace by their own ineptitude. I was betrayed every day Hidan was rendered useless underground, for he failed to fulfil his promise to me: a daily sacrifice. I’m being far too merciful, all things considered,” Jashin retorts in a harsh tone.

Ino parts her mouth as though to speak, yet remains silent. 

“two-thousand and ninety-two days,” Hidan murmurs almost inaudibly.

“That’s how long you were down there?” Ino asks softly, studying Hidan’s hunched posture. He nods tersely, evading eye contact. As the sun meets the horizon, she marvels at the luminosity of his silver strands, at how translucent his skin appears. She wonders if he would bruise easily- if the discoloured marks would match the purpled hues of his wary eyes. A distant voice urges her to find out. 

“It should have been for eternity,” she spits out, conflicting with the apologetic expression which lingers on her features. 

“Maybe so, but I’ve different plans for dear Hidan. What type of God would I be if I didn’t provide options for my most decorated devotee? You haven’t realized it yet, but Hidan is just as much of a spiritual entity as I am now. He might appear to have a physical manifestation, but that’s all it is- a manifestation which only you can see. Hidan, if you wish to become a full-fledged human again, the person who unearthed you must perform a sacrifice on your behalf. If you provide me with a sacrifice and thus reinstate your devotion to me within seven days, your soul will be reconnected to your body. If you fail, your connection to me will be severed and thus you will remain in limbo between the tangible and spiritual world. The choice is yours.”

Hidan yells out an endless array of expletives as Ino watches on, her face contorted with repulsion. 

“If your thirst for human sacrifice is so insatiable, why didn’t you resurrect Hidan so that he could perform rituals on his own? How are you benefitting from reducing him to a self-pitying ghost boy incapable of inflicting any pain on others? You’re delusional if you think that I’m going to pay off the debt of an irredeemable shit stain,” Ino hisses as she continues to glower at Hidan. 

“Believe me, if I had the ability to properly revive Hidan, he’d be looming over you with his scythe right now. Due to a multitude of reasons I don’t feel compelled to disclose to you, I had to make compromises and salvage the spiritual essence from his deteriorating remnants,” Jashin responds with a cool, detached tone.

“Where the fuck is my real body, then? This wanky ass mystical essence shit is giving me a headache,” Hidan injects, massaging his temple.

“Don’t you worry about that, Hidan. Time was not kind to your body- the longer you failed to perform the ritual, the quicker your immortality was diluted, allowing physical signs of deterioration to emerge. Your power remains- however your body fell victim to the confines of mortality as regular sacrifices are the only thing which guarantee protection against decay. Be assured that your remains reside in a safe place- and that the Nara boy won’t be able to detect its disappearance.”

Hidan’s features unstiffen, although his narrowed eyes remain distrustful.

“You don’t seem to have heard me, Jashin. I’m not going to indulge any of this shit, I have enough problems of my own. Find someone else to do your dirty work, I’m sure there’s some sadistic weirdos out there that would happily oblige,” Ino enunciates sharply. 

“Whether or not you fulfil your role in this is your prerogative, of course. Be cautious, though, that if you choose to not perform the sacrifice, I’ll be forced to try to perform the procedure myself and I would be restricted by certain factors. The most prominent of which is that the only person I can attempt to sacrifice is the person who is most directly connected to Hidan’s demise. You’re a bright girl, I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out to you,” Jashin retorts amusedly.

Ino digs her fingernails into her palms, willing herself to regain consciousness. It’s as if the surreal nature of what is transpiring before her has just hit her, rendering her into a dazed-like trance. 

“You said you couldn’t touch the Nara clan because of the protective barrier which enshrouds the forest. You’re just trying to hit me at my weak spot so that I’ll abandon all logic and do what you tell me to,” Ino murmurs, her voice hoarse and distant.

“No, I said that the barrier prevented me from possessing them directly. The sacrifice would simply require me to seize control over your body again, which I’ve made abundantly clear I have no difficulties with. You should be grateful that I’m giving you the choice to find someone to sacrifice first,” Jashin growls. 

Ino blanches, her body frigid against the cold, crumbly earth. The visual of her possessed body slashing Shikamaru’s throat with cool, detached precision assaults her mind. She can picture it so vividly: coaxing him to come over with the false pretense of wanting his company, only to thrust a kunai into his pale, unsuspecting neck. She can visualise how Temari would walk in on the scene- the image of her fiancé’s limp body beneath his blood-stained former lover forever haunting her. In the deep recesses of her mind, she can hear the whispers which would transpire. Jealous bitch. Unhinged cunt. If she couldn’t have him, no one could. A distant voice asks her if this is what Asuma meant when he implored her to never lose in love. 

“I’ll do it,” Ino spits out, digging her nails so deeply into her palms that vibrant red blood oozes out. 

Hidan looks up at her, mouth agape. 

“Very well. As I said, you have seven days. If you fail, I’ll be forced to intervene. I assure you that finding someone won’t be as difficult as you anticipate. There’s plenty of sinners in this godforsaken realm- think of it as a cleansing ritual. You might even find it therapeutic,” Jashin purrs.

“There’s nothing cathartic about murdering someone in cold blood,” Ino gnarls, her voice raw.

“You’re awfully sanctimonious for someone who values a friend’s life over everyone else’s. While I would love to deconstruct your ambiguous moral compass, I’ve no more time to indulge your peculiar little mind. Do not seek me- I will be in contact with you when the need arises,” Jashin elucidates in a low, monotonous tone. 

“Wait, I-” Ino frantically calls out, although once she no longer feels his ominous presence permeate throughout the forest, she knows she’s too late. 

“Don’t bother, blondie. He’s an asshole who likes to leave people hanging. He’s not going to divulge any more details,” Hidan mutters, running pale fingers through his disheveled strands. 

Ino paces towards him, eyes ablaze with rage. 

“Call me that again, and I’ll do everything I can to ensure your miserable excuse of a soul is stuck without a body for eternity. I’m not fucking around,” Ino hisses, looming over him. 

“You haven’t told me your name yet, dumbass. Consider it a placeholder for now. And nice try, but there’s much more at stake for you than there is for me. If you fuck off and refuse to help, Jashin will perform the ritual and your friend will be sacrificed,” Hidan drawls, his voice laced with smug amusement. 

Ino takes another step towards him, hovering down to his level with an unnerving sense of calm. 

“It’s Ino. I was there when you nearly got your ass beat by Kakashi, needing to heavily rely on your teammate when he outclassed you in every sense of the world. Kakuzu, wasn’t it? He’s dead, by the way. I watched my sensei bleed to death because of the scythe you buried into his chest. Five years of being buried alive isn’t nearly enough suffering to atone for what you’ve done,” Ino cries, lunging forward and shoving Hidan back to the ground he was once six feet under. 

Hidan shifts his weight forward, grabbing Ino’s forearm and twisting it behind her back.

“Listen, bitch. I don’t know what your little boyfriend told you, but your sensei attacked me first. Like, a three against one complete bullshit type of scenario. I didn’t do shit except execute my right to defend myself. Now get the fuck off me, seriously,” Hidan groans, cracking his neck with a pained expression.

Ino hoists herself up, watching Hidan carefully as she retreats from him. A voice faintly whispers to her that maybe he had a point- maybe Asuma deserved to die.

“You’re delusional if you think Jashin was being forthright with us. You do realize there’s every chance he won’t be able to perform to ritual, why else would he construct such a convoluted plan to manipulate me into doing it?” 

“Believe me, I’ve had plenty of time these last few years to think about how full of shit he is. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m much more useful to him when I’m able to perform sacrifices for him, and that we’re equally fucked if you don’t go along with all of this crap,” Hidan elucidates in a sluggish tone. 

Ino studies her forearm, noting how his calloused fingers left a slight red mark on her porcelain skin. She gently traces the mark with her index finger, as a voice asks her if he’s really a spirit, or something more palpable. 

“Like I said, I’ll do it. But you better stay the fuck away from me until then, or I’ll torture you in ways your little God could never even dream of. Unless you’re into that shit- in which case I wouldn’t be surprised, given you’ve got that whole sadomasochist vibe going on,” Ino rambles distant-mindedly, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Ino, who are you talking to?” a low voice asks her, voice thick with concern. Ino swiftly turns around to see Shikamaru with his hands shoved into his vest, visibly distressed. 

Ino snaps her head towards Hidan with pleading eyes, who simply shrugs and scratches his head.

“I, uh, came here for some solitude. Sometimes when I’m upset, I like to pretend to talk to someone in an isolated space. It’s my coping technique- my way of unburdening my problems,” Ino trails off with a timid expression, hoping her performance was convincing. 

“That seems healthy,” Shikamaru replies curtly, furrowing his brows at her dubiously. 

“I never endorsed it as such,” Ino bites back as she takes a step away from him, averting his judgmental stare.

“Ino, if you’re going to blatantly lie to me, at least do a better job than that half-assed effort. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Tell me what’s up,” Shikamaru gently assures her as he closes the distance between them, pulling Ino into a tight embrace.

The warmth of his breath against the nape of her neck is all that Ino needs to come undone. She grips his sleeve, yearning to be held tighter as his arms circle her waist. She sharply inhales his heady, intoxicating scent, her frame violently shaking with tears as she sobs into his shoulder. 

“You can’t see him?” Ino repeats, her voice raw with anguish.

Shikamaru places a firm hand at the small of her back, slightly pulling away from her to lift her chin up to him. 

“Ino, there’s nobody here. Whatever you thought you saw was a manifestation of your mind. You’re safe now,” he coaxes her, pulling her back into the crook of his neck despite her reluctance.

Ino stiffens against his embrace. He had looked at her with such pity, as if she were a mental hospital escapee who had a slipping grasp on reality. When she asked if he could see him, he didn’t even briefly scan the forest, steadfast in his belief that she was not in a right frame of mind. 

“Look closer,” she mutters into his shoulder, the hand on her back now feeling clammy and inhibitive. 

He ignores her, running his fingers through her unkempt strands.

As her pleas continue to fall on deaf ears, a distant voice emerges from the vestiges of Ino’s mind. He’s becoming the mirror image of him, isn’t he? All he sees you as is an over-emotional girl that he needs to keep in check. The voice becomes louder and more assertive. Squint closer at him- see the way he casts such holier-than-thou judgement when he looks down at you. Think of who he’s emulating.

With considerable effort, Ino wiggles from Shikamaru’s embrace, glowering at his languid expression. 

Even when you’re desperately trying to communicate something to him, he can’t conjure up the effort to look mildly invested.

It’s when he looks down at her with heavy-lidded eyes and lights a cigarette that Ino realizes why she looks like she’s seen a ghost. 

Squinting closer at the man who reignited her internalized trauma, she sees the ghost who was the catalyst to its creation. He’s just like Asuma, the voice hisses at her. Harnessing his charisma to undermine you. 

“Look closer,” Ino repeats, her tone flat and face vacant as she gently pushes Shikamaru’s chest away from hers.

“All he needed to do was look closer,” she continues, turning away from the ghost from her childhood and the enduring burden of her adulthood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of the support so far! While 15 kudos might not seem like much for an established writer, it's a lot for me and I'm extremely grateful! 
> 
> Apologies for how exposition-heavy this chapter is. No one likes to read an endless influx of exposition-heavy dialogue, and that's exactly what half of this chapter falls victim to. I promise that exposition will be spare in the future, as this chapter really laid down the foundation of what's going to go down. 
> 
> Please also be reassured that Ino's characterisation is going to make more sense as the story progresses- I know she seems a bit off at the moment but I'm really conscious of carving her character as authentically as possible while also enhancing her character development. As anyone who's aware of what happens at the end of the series will know, Ino was severely neglected and under-utilised as a character and as a consequence it can be difficult to fill in the gaps left by Kishimoto.
> 
> I've found a number of Ino-centric fics have depicted her as overtly spunky and sassy, and while I think she's definitely one of the funniest characters, there's also a lot more nuance to her character which I really want to flesh out with this fic.   
With regards to Hidan, I just wanted to stress how much I adore Firefly's work and how influential her fics have been in constructing Hidan's characterisation in this fic. She's a pretty well-known fanfic author, but if you haven't come across her work I strongly recommend "Quotidian" (Temari/Hidan) and "Hazards of Amity" (Temari/Itachi). Her prose is so effortlessly immersive and moving, and she's the one author who I think really nailed the balance between Hidan's piety and obscenity. 
> 
> Of course, I want to carve out my own original take on his character, but I think it's really important to cite your influences as a writer- and I hope it leads to her work being read and enjoyed 10 years after it was first published. 
> 
> Last thing- I'm hoping to update this fic 2-3 times a month. I've made the likely ill-advised decision to apply for my masters, and that's proving to be quite a time-consuming process. I promise I'll start writing longer chapters, though! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I'm extremely critical when it comes to my own work so any form of encouragement- however small it might be- means more than I could ever articulate!


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